


Hylian Homeowner

by FalconFate



Series: Deep Breaths (of the Wild) [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotions, Hylian Homeowner sidequest, I'm emotional about houses now oh no, Might be adjusting tags as story progresses, Mild Angst, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), stars above i absolutely adore the giant horse, the giant horse is a mare and also an important character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-21 03:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22554319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalconFate/pseuds/FalconFate
Summary: Link arrives in Hateno Village and does not expect to get attached.He gets attached.
Series: Deep Breaths (of the Wild) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622791
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74





	1. Stereoscopic

The clanging and cheery singing drew Link from the thoroughfare of Hateno and across a bridge that spanned a deep, narrow gap. On the far side, tucked beneath a small ridge, was a house that had clearly been abandoned—missing a door, crumbling plaster, overrun with vines and missing tiles from the roof.

Link felt a strange numbness wash over him, and for half a moment—just brief enough to make him wonder if it had ever happened at all—another image slid over his sight, of the same house, but bright and clean and well-kept. He had to stop in the middle of the bridge and reorient himself, blinking dizziness away, sighing sharply through his nose at the way his feet suddenly wanted to move without his direction. 

Shaking his head, Link crossed the bridge. There were a handful of Hylians about the house, swinging iron sledgehammers at the walls, and Link’s heart inexplicably caught in his throat—suddenly, he didn’t care  _ what _ he had to do, but he had to stop them!

And then the feeling passed before Link could try to parse through what it meant, leaving only a vague tangle of panic deep in his gut. Unsettled, Link wondered if it was his own feeling at all.

He made quick work of running to the first sledgehammer swinger he saw, hands flying in a flurry of questions to try and catch the man’s attention. The man, who seemed quite bemused at Link’s urgency, introduced himself as Karson. Answering Link’s questions one at a time, Karson explained that the house had been abandoned when its previous owner had reported to the castle over a century ago, that everyone in the village had agreed to demolish it, and he should speak to Bolson if he wanted to buy it.

As Link thanked him and jogged around to the back of the house, he frowned.  _ Buy it? _ Had Link said anything about buying? That hadn’t been his intention when he’d first come to Hateno on Impa’s advice. He was supposed to look for someone named Purah, not… settle somewhere.

He had a destiny, apparently? Destiny didn’t seem like the thing you ignored in favor of buying a house.

_ Although I wonder if destiny would wait for a little while, _ a tired voice in the back of Link’s mind sighed softly. He’d been running through the monster-infested countryside for the past three weeks straight without much rest, and he hadn’t yet found himself a steady enough rupee income to afford a bed at every inn he passed.  _ Maybe a bed I don’t have to pay to sleep in would be nice. _

Behind the house was a wiry older man with a fur-lined vest. He didn’t have a sledgehammer in hand. Instead, he alternated between barking out directions and leading cheery construction-themed chants. 

Link approached him, catching his attention with a flick of his hand and asking about the house. Bolson was surprised at Link’s determined request to purchase it—even as Link’s gut churned at the initial price of fifty thousand rupees. 

“…Little go-getter, aren’t you?” Bolson mused. “Heh. Reminds me of me back in the day.” He scrutinized Link thoroughly, taking in the threadbare shirt and trousers, the cracking stolen club slung across his back. “…all right,” Bolson sighed. “All right, look. Here’s the deal! Just for you! I’ll cut you a special price—” 

Link’s heart lifted at the words, the sudden possibilities swirling in his mind. Perhaps he could pay it today! 

“—of three thousand rupees.”

Link’s heart stuttered, his mouth going dry as he remembered the meager nineteen rupees he had in his pockets, pilfered from barrels in a bokoblin camp. But then he remembered that the man had done him the kindness of taking off an entire forty-seven thousand from the original price, and steeled himself for the potential stealing (from monsters) or trading (not with monsters, probably) to rack up those three thousand rupees.

“BUT IN RETURN—!” Bolson declared loudly (and in that single moment of wanting to react, Link was nearly ready to abandon it all right then, come back another day when he was richer than he was now, just pay off the fifty thousand up front), “I’m going to need you to bring me thirty wood bundles. Building materials, you know how it is.”

Link blinked slowly, then grinned. That was all right then. Three thousand rupees and thirty wood bundles? Well, at least one of those was an immediately feasible number. Now, he just needed to find an axe…

* * *

Some time later, Link returned to Hateno, his hair neatly tucked into a red bandana, a scuffed traveler’s breastplate secured snugly over his Hylian tunic. He took a few chunks of amber and opal and a single shining red ruby to the general store, selling them for rupees, and then continuing to sell from his impressive collection of trophies: lizalfos tails, keese eyeballs, moblin horns, bokoblin guts, even the single lynel gut he’d won at the East Gate of Lanayru Road. He had already used what he needed for elixirs. 

In no time at all, he had rounded up his fortune to well over three thousand rupees, and with a hefty supply of wooden bundles, he jogged once more across the bridge to Bolson.

A few minutes later, and with a much lighter wallet, Link stood in front of the house once more. It still had no door, no furniture of any kind. It was eerie and empty, save for the lonely weapon mount on one wall, from which Link hastily hung one of his dragonbone spears. But he still had some rupees left over, and Bolson was happy to build him first a door (Link knew this was a safe village, but really, an entire house? With no? Door?) and then a bed. 

Not even waiting for sundown, Link happily collapsed onto the mattress, pulled the threadbare cover over his head, paid no one any rupees just for the pleasure of rest, and slept like a rock until morning. 


	2. Destiny's Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link's horse is scary, destiny is scary, everything is scary, but he has his friends' weapons safe in his care so he supposes he's got that going for him.

Link had become a familiar face in Hateno Village. Eventually, the enormous horse with the coal-black coat, copper-red mane and tail, and terrifyingly intelligent green eyes had also become a familiar sight, though the fierce faces Link’s steed sometimes threw at anyone who came too near still made hands shake and voices stutter. 

Parva didn’t fit inside the little stable beside Link’s house, so when he was there, she would graze beneath the tree where Bolson and Karson sat by the fire. The two constructioneers got on with her splendidly, offering her apples and carrots and sugar lumps when they had them, and fond scratches behind her ears when they had only their hands, so long as they weren’t occupied fulfilling Link’s polite requests for embellishments on the house. There was a garden of flowers and saplings in the yard, a sign with Link’s name on it, a light hanging from the ceiling and by the door, and some of Link’s more unique weapons hanging from the walls, but it was still… empty. Link’s footsteps echoed even in his stealthiest Sheikah boots. 

There was nowhere to sit, no table to work at—though Link had no idea what sort of work he would do even if he had the table and chair to do so—and he used the place mostly to sleep and to keep safe the other Champions’ belongings that he had found: Revali’s bow, polished and gleaming from the careful upkeep of the Rito elder; Mipha’s trident, shining and silver, making something in Link’s chest pinch tight every time he caught sight of it; Urbosa’s scimitar, glittering proudly beside the trident; Daruk’s famous Boulder Breaker, polished and sharpened with the love and care of the entire population of Goron City funneled into Rohan’s clever fingers.

When Link would find himself lying awake in the night, tired but unable to sleep, he would tread softly down the stairs and run his fingers reverently over the weapons. A piece of each of their spirits was always with him, but they rarely ever _spoke_ to him, except to tell him that their skills were at his disposal once again. But some nights, when the holes in his memory were too deep and too dark, when the shadow of Hyrule Castle loomed in his mind and in that empty, echoing house, their spirits would whisper to him. 

Mipha would usually speak first, her soft words soothing the itch of unrest that twitched beneath his skin, calming his aimless agitation to a contemplative fiddling with the Sheikah Slate. She told him about _him,_ about his father and sister, about where he grew up and the places he liked best to swim in Zora’s Domain. Her voice, which aboard Vah Ruta had been mournful and resigned (as Link fought Guardian scouts and pools of Malice and the emaciated cobbling of Malice and Guardian that was the Waterblight), was now fond and warm, occasionally broken by soft, bubbling laughter as she told him of failed attempts at catching hot-footed frogs by the lakeshore. 

Revali would usually be the one to speak after Mipha had finished, connecting one of Link’s childhood romps to one of Revali’s own great and numerous feats by the barest relation imaginable (Link still had no idea how Revali had managed to convince him that felling an entire flock of keese in half a second flat was at all related to Link and Mipha diving for lotus roots). As always, he was loud, and proud, and always honest, though not always modest—perhaps Link should give that line to Kass to write the Ballad of Revali the Rito—and above all, he managed to make Link chuckle at how _absolutely ridiculous_ of a Rito he sometimes was. Sure, he always triumphed in the end, but he _was_ the one who went looking for a Lynel and ended up finding three, and losing a tailfeather to each of them. 

Daruk, then, would usually bring up a story about his family. Especially his young daughter, who, much to Daruk’s chagrin as well as pride, was just as scared of being chased by dogs as Daruk had been, and yet ten times braver for still trying to befriend a rare few with cuts of meat bought from travelling traders. She had mastered Daruk’s Protection even quicker than Daruk himself had done (another point of pride), and her favorite way to show it off was by playing the role of the ball in games of kickball with the other Goron children, bouncing around the rocky fields, giggling and glowing with her father’s gift. Link would lean his forehead against the broad, solid blade of the Boulder Breaker, smiling wistfully at the sight he conjured beneath his tired eyelids.

And after Daruk had trailed off into silence, Urbosa would wait a moment. Her Scimitar of the Seven and Daybreaker Shield would shimmer beneath the flutter of Link’s fingertips, and he tried to ignore his doubts, the quiet but insistent voice in the back of his mind that hissed at him that he was _unworthy, a failure, too late, too slow, should have done better, should have done more, should be doing more, should be dead, wrong hero, wrong Chosen One_. 

When Urbosa finally spoke, she would tell him of Zelda. The princess, the daughter of her dearest friend, her little bird. She would tell him about how hard she worked to fulfill her duties as Princess, as the daughter of the royal family, as the descendent of divine blood; how her soul was crushed with each failure, each setback. Urbosa would tell him of the successes that were truly Zelda’s pride, or scholarly accomplishments, her radiant joy at every little finding from the dig sites in the Gerudo Canyon. And then, with a wry note in her voice that betrayed a smile Link couldn’t see, Urbosa would muse over Link’s own accomplishments: the Divine Beasts now restored to their original glory, set on their original purpose, his memories returning to him, his strength increasing day after day. And finally, she reminded him of the people he had helped: Kass the Rito, who had recently returned to Rito Village to make music with his daughters after Link had heard every song he knew; Malena’s husband, soon to heal with the medicine made from molduga guts Link had fetched for her; the Great Fairies, who were no longer trapped in their isolated buds; Fronk’s wife Mei returned to Zora’s Domain safe and sound; Bladon and his brother reunited once again. 

Her fond voice soothed his worries and fears, and though Hyrule Castle’s shadow loomed over him still, it would find no purchase in his dreams when he tried once more to sleep, surrounded by the faint warmth of the spirits of his friends. 

* * *

Link had three bow mounts. They filled up about half of the wall, and as he eyed them critically, running his thumb over the golden bow he wanted to mount (as a backup, because he liked them very much but was also gunning for the massive bow wielded by the Lynel stalking the North Tabantha Snowfield), he realized he definitely wasn’t yet ready to wield Revali’s Great Eagle bow (and maybe _break_ it because then he would _literally never hear the end of it_ from Revali himself), didn’t particularly want to use the dragonbone bow ever again (it just felt wrong after seeing the three very real, very _magnificent_ dragons across Hyrule), and the silver Zora bow was just too pretty to use. 

But he had plenty of wall left, so Link shrugged, slung the golden bow back across his shoulders, and went to pay Bolson a visit, patting his wallet as he went to make sure he had at least a hundred rupees. He expected the same routine: pay the fee, stand with Parva and watch Bolson and Karson work, and then thank them as they proudly presented it to him.

What he did _not_ expect was for Bolson to look at what he’d already done for the house, raise his eyebrows to meet his receding hairline, declare Link a “housing monster,” and then dramatically call Karson to his side to set to work in a flurry of sawing and chanting and hammering.

When they were done, Bolson proudly proclaimed that the house was perfect. “Go on in, see for yourself,” he told Link, shooing him toward the door.

Link exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Parva before hesitantly approaching the door. There was a subtle shine to the house now, a certain… put-togetherness that it didn’t have yesterday. The creak of the door as he opened it didn’t seem to have changed its tune, but it felt more welcoming than eerily depressing. 

As he set foot inside, Link’s footsteps didn’t echo. 

He had to stop in the doorway and take it all in. His house was _beautiful._ Wildflowers sat in a vase atop a table set with two places, all atop a wide rug with a patterned border; bottles and jars were displayed proudly on a shelf above the small kitchen counter, ladles of various sizes strung on the wall beneath it; a set of shelves laden with books, rolled towels, a picnic basket, and lovingly painted drawers stood next to a small matching side table immediately to the left of the door; to the right of the door was a trio of pegs to hang a coat or a hat. 

Link didn’t realize he was smiling the widest he could even remember until his cheeks began to ache from the force of his grin. 

Upstairs was even better. He found a writing desk with more books, a pen, ink, and paper; pictures hung on the walls; a long low shelf with _even more books;_ by the bed a nightstand with a bright yellow daffodil, a small rug on the floor, a light on the wall over the nightstand. Link didn’t think he’d ever need to use the writing desk, but he knew, somehow, that it would get used. The gaps in his memory were still wide and unfathomable, but he remembered just enough of Zelda to know the books and papers would be used if she ever set her eyes on them… if Link was able to defeat Ganon.

That thought stopped him in his tracks, and Link wondered, distantly, how he would grapple with this. Destiny was one thing, far-off and distant, but _this_ was tangible. Books and papers he didn’t have the time to put to use, would never be put to use if he died or failed to defeat Ganon, free Zelda, save all of Hyrule. 

Those papers, in their tidy little pile, practically shining with the love of whoever had carefully neatened them, would be without a purpose until Link fulfilled his. Link, who had one half of a stamina wheel in addition to his first and seven heart vessels to accompany his original three, who had a single ancient arrow he hadn’t even used, who hadn’t even ventured into Central Hyrule for his wariness of the spidery Guardians that stalked the fields—he wasn’t ready. 

But he could be. 

Kass the Rito bard had told him that the shrines were meant to train the hero from ten thousand years before, and now Link could train within them. He _would_ train, and become stronger, faster, _better_ than he’d been even before he slept in the Shrine of Resurrection for a century. He would travel the world and learn everything he could about offense and defense; fighting with spears, greatswords, sword and shield, bow and arrow; fighting in freezing cold, blazing hot, raging storm. 

Link looked past the desk and down into the lower level of the house, where his friends’ weapons were arrayed on the wall. _I will not fail,_ he vowed to them silently. _I will avenge you. I will not fail._

“ _We are with you, Link,_ ” he heard Mipha say solemnly.

“ _Come Calamity or Malice, brother, we’re by your side!_ ” Daruk’s spirit crowed.

“ _With my abilities, Ganon is as good as defeated already,_ ” Revali declared proudly.

“ _Our Princess is in good hands, Link,_ ” said Urbosa. “ _We are by your side for every step, and together we will wreak devastating vengeance on Calamity Ganon!_ ”

Link let his eyes close, and as the warmth of his friends’ spirits washed over him, providing him their strength, their power, their determination, he grinned. 

He would not fail. Not this time.

(He ended up throwing the dragonbone bow into the river below his house.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I haven't actually fought Ganon yet? Cuz I haven't fought Ganon yet.
> 
> …I'm too busy getting attached to NPCs.
> 
> AND if you're curious, yes I'm gonna write a piece specifically about the Giant Horse (here I called her Parva).
> 
> Comments and kudos much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> hooooo boy it's The New Obsession!!!!! I started this fic I think the second day I had the game and that was a few weeks ago, and I have even more waiting in the wings. I have since then gotten the DLC, so expect SOOOO many more emotions later and definitely a series.
> 
> Also I'm obsessed with the giant horse. You'll see later. 
> 
> Probably not gonna majorly ship, at least for now—I'm sticking with post-Calamity for the moment, and none of the major ships interest me more than any others atm, so. yeh. Lots of familial and platonic emotions for right now! So many emotions!
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are appreciated!


End file.
